


Deaths Like Mine

by thewiggins



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Dead Like Me
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2019-05-02 07:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewiggins/pseuds/thewiggins
Summary: On the night of Jenny's death, a new career path presents itself. Or, in which Jenny becomes a reaper in the style of the Dead Like Me series. No actual crossover of characters from that series, can be read without knowledge of or spoilers to Dead Like Me.





	Deaths Like Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work of fanfiction I ever wrote. Originally posted to Livejournal in the summer of 2016. I was trying to write it for a Twisting the Hellmouth writing challenge, I think the idea was to write one crossover fic for each day of the month of August. This was as far as I got, partly because I didn't even know how to post to a Livejournal community at the time, and partly because I got way too bogged down in detail of the story for there to have been any chance of me doing something like this every day.
> 
> It's been cleaned up and and the ending expanded slightly prior to posting here. Unbeta'd, so feel free to point out any errors!

Death isn’t something you usually see coming. Especially not sudden, violent deaths. Deaths like mine. You don’t get a chance to say goodbye to the people you love. You don’t get to have one last beautiful, perfect day. You don’t get to apologize, or make restitution.

During that last night of my life, I was absolutely focused. I was going to give Angel the curse that was a cure. To restore Buffy's lover and ally. To, I hoped, redeem myself in the eyes of Rupert and the girl that he loved like a daughter.

Then death came. I should have seen coming. Should have seen the sun going down, realized that I hadn’t left the open, dangerously public space of my classroom. But at the time, nothing mattered except the symbols on my screen. 

All through my life I sometimes had these moments where my focus would narrow completely and the world around would drop away. These were the times when I cast the most powerful spells, write the strongest code. Unfortunately, this night was one of those times.

I left my desk only once that evening, to use the graffiti-marred hallway bathroom. On my way back through the silent hallway, I met a man, a stranger. Demon? Vampire? But the soft-faced, middle-aged man seemed like an unlikely candidate for either. But what was he doing in the school at this hour? I eyed him cautiously. He surprised me by smiling warmly and moving to intercept me.

“Mrs. Jenny Calendar?”

“Uh, yes? _Ms._ Calendar, actually. What are you doing here? The school’s closed.”

The man could clearly sense my unease. 

“Well, _Ms._ Calendar, I came to see you, actually. I know it's late, but I was just talking to my daughter. She's in your class and she won't stop talking about how much she loves it! I think you've really inspired her.” He smiled me again, his eyes warm. “So I just wanted to come here and say, thanks. It's rare to see a kid so excited to learn this day.” 

He reached out and touched me softly on the shoulder. Warmth from his hand seeped through the fabric of my shirt. It felt weirdly nice. Immediately after his hand had left my skin I thought that I should have blocked it, or moved away, but as it happened the gesture had seemed entirely non-threatening. _Stupid Janna!_ A voice very much like my mother’s sounded in my head. _What if he had been a vampire?_ He wasn't. Clearly not. Vampires didn't have body heat, and most don't play with their meals for this long before revealing themselves. But his unexpected presence had shaken me.

“Well, thanks. It’s always nice to meet the father of one of my students. But, I’ve really got to finish up my work here and get home. I’ve got class in the morning. But I’m sure I’ll see you at the parent-teacher conference?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Well, I'll let you get back to it.”

I nodded somewhat curtly, confused and a little scared, and walked away as quickly as I could without breaking into a run. I was halfway down the hall when I realized that he’d never told me the name of his daughter. Was he even a parent? Well, regardless, I needed to wrap things up and leave. It wasn't safe here. I should save my program to a floppy and finish from home. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier?

Really though, I knew why. The apartment that I rented? That wasn’t where I felt like home. That was just the place from which I’d launched Jenny Calendar’s fake life. This place was, in some strange way, my home. It was where I’d met Rupert, my sexy fuddy-duddy. And that sweet brave band of students. Kind, eager Willow, goofy Xander, and... yes, Buffy. The people that I cared about. It was the place where Jenny Calendar had really been born.

But it'd been stupid to think of it as safe. I was on the Hellmouth after all! I would get back to my apartment, and finish the program, call Rupert. Oh, Rupert! I had really hoped to visit him tonight, to come to him with good news. But would it be too late?

Nothing had changed in the empty classroom. My monitor was still illuminated, I hadn’t been gone long enough for my screen saver --the one with those colorful, ever-growing, twisting tubes-- to kick in. The decoding program was almost done. I had planned on just canceling out of it and just leaving, but the status bar showed 95%. So close. I waited and progress ticked visibly upwards, second by second. 96, 97, 98, 99… It hung for a minute or two on 99%, as these things always seem to do. 

And then it was done.

The spell was decoded, and for the first time in nearly a hundred years, The Ritual of Restoration could be used. I grabbed the floppy, that ever-so-hopefully-colored yellow one that I had set out on the desk earlier, and saved the decoded spell. Relieved that it was over, I started gathering my stuff to leave. And then Angelus was there.

I won’t bore you with all the details. Of how he taunted me, smashed the Orb of Thesula into the wall behind me with enough force to embed tiny slivers of crystal in my skin. Of how he destroyed my computer, thinking that he’d destroyed all traces of the decoded spell. Or of how he chased me, and the terrible pleasure he so clearly got out of it. Of the moments when I was so certain that I’d get away or the way I never quite believed that I wouldn’t survive.

And then he had me. I was trapped, and suddenly fully aware that I would die. I wondered if he’d turn me into one of his kind, or just drain me and leave my body. I underestimated him. There was a window behind us, the cool expanse of night so close that I could almost feel it. I wish I could say that I’d had time for profound thoughts. That I thought about the paths that had brought me here, the love that I’d had, and the life that Rupert and I might have had together. Hell, the life I might have had on my own, even if he and I had never worked out. But all I had time for was the sheer panic of a trapped animal and the knowledge that this was my death. There was a moment of something close to calm, something near acceptance. And then there was that terrible, deafening crack.

I didn’t feel it. I heard it. I saw the quick brutal twisting motion. Saw a body fall lifelessly to the ground. And I saw the way that he smiled. All this I saw from a distance, perhaps ten feet away. I looked at my hands, puzzled. They looked the same as ever. My arms seemed to be in the same shirt I’d put on this morning, my legs in the same skirt, my feet in the same shoes. Why hadn’t I worn running shoes? 

I looked at the body on the ground, dressed just the same. This is it, I realized. I’m dead.

I had to turn away. Away from that corpse and the terrible grin on the face of the creature that had created it. I ran, hurtling down the hallway, retracing my steps from just a minute before. I reached the school doors and ran through them. Right through the closed doors and down the moonlit walkway. 

I barely had time to register confusion before a curt voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Stop!” 

The word was clear and sharp. It lacked fear or urgency, yet demanded to be listened to and obeyed. I stopped, turning. A woman was standing to the side of the path, arms crossed over her chest. She was looking straight at me. 

“You. Mrs. …?”

“ _Ms._ Jenny Calendar.” I corrected, for the second time that night.

“Felicity Small.” 

She extended her hand. For a moment I just stood there, letting her exasperated glare cut into me. Then I stretched mine out as well. She clutched it firmly, perfunctorily lifting it up and down to the same precise degree before releasing it to drop back to my side.

“You can see me? And touch me? Does that mean I’m not…?”

“Dead?” The woman examined her fingernails. She was dressed in a red cardigan over a white dress with a big, poofy skirt. Her hair and those red nails seemed like they had been sculpted rather than grown. 

“Oh, yes, you're definitely dead. Sorry.” 

It was a very perfunctory apology, after which she stood, apparently waiting with some semblance of patience for my inevitable reaction.

“But, couldn’t there have been some kind of mistake? I…” 

I searched desperately for reasons that I couldn’t be dead. 

“I was going to meet Rupert tonight.” 

I knew the second that they left my mouth how little those words would help me.

“No.” 

Carefully painted lips flashed a small, efficient smile that was not entirely lacking in sympathy. 

“No?” Was all I could manage.

“No, you never were. And no, there’s been no mistake. And before you ask, this isn’t a dream or a hallucination and I _don’t_ have the ability to give you your life back, so it doesn’t matter how nicely you ask, how pitifully you beg, or what you might offer me. Have I covered all our bases?”

I was speechless.

“Good. Let’s get started then. I’m what’s called a reaper. Meaning that I too once died but was, shall we say, promoted to the rank of undead. Oh, I see what you’re thinking. Not that kind of undead.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the idea. 

“I’m not possessed by a demon or anything so crass. Basically, I have a physical body and can interact with the living as easily as the dead. My job, as it were, is to collect the souls of deceased individuals like yourself.”

She paused for a moment, waiting to see if I had anything to add to the conversation at this juncture. I really, really didn’t, so she dove on.

“Each of us reapers is assigned a certain quota of souls to collect, though our higher-ups don’t see fit to inform us in advance of what that number is.” 

She rolled her eyes slightly, in the universal gesture of a low-level employee’s irritation at higher-ups who make decisions without understanding how these things really working on a day-to-day level. 

“You, happened to fill the quota for Reg. You know Reg. He would have made some excuse to touch you, probably on the shoulder. He always tended to have a soft touch with the soon to be deceased.”

Felicity's expression showed  
that she herself saw little reason for such gentleness. Shrugging, she continued.

“This action would have released your soul, allowing it to escape your body before the unpleasant moment of death itself.”

“Oh. So that was Reg?” I replied weakly. 

_God,_ I thought, _where are my snappy conversation skills tonight?_

“Exactly. So his quota was met, meaning he got promoted or moved on, or whatever it is precisely that happens at that moment. And that means that you…” she gave a small dramatic pause as though preparing to give away a big prize. “…You get to take his place.”

“So you want me to be a... a reaper?”

She shook her head and pursed her lips a little, making it clear that this had nothing to do with what _she_ wanted. 

“Destiny. That’s just the way these things work. You’ll get used to it.”

\--------

Before I got my new body, Felicity took me to Rupert’s home. There, immaterial and unseen, I watched as Angelus laid my body out just so on the bed, watched him putter around the apartment setting the mood so perfectly for Rupert's arrival. Of course, there was nothing I could do to stop him. My angry shouts and attempted punches passed right through him, unnoticed. In a way I'm glad because if he had seen me he would only have laughed, the whole tableau would have only become that much more perfect for him.

So I gave up and watched in silence as Angelus finished his work and saunter off, whistling. Watched Rupert return home, find the champagne, the rose petals, the note. Watched that sweet smile cross his lips, knowing that it would be the last time that he would smile that way for me. Because I knew that what he saw next would forever taint his memory. God, how I hated Angelus for that. 

I watched Rupert find the body, watched his expression shift, watched something break. 

Felicity had said that seeing the body would help me let go, and in a way it did. Seeing it as an empty dead thing... something used to taunt Rupert, to slap him in the face with the memory of what we'd been and the knowledge of what we'd never been… I was able to let go of it more easily. But letting go of Rupert would be another story.

By the time of my funeral, I had been given a physical body. To other reapers, I would appear as I had in life. To the rest of the world, I wore a face that looked similar in certain broad details, but not similar enough that anyone would recognize me. I had dark hair and eyes still, but the mouth was a little larger, the eyes a little smaller and closer together. My nose was longer, my jaw wider. A million little ways in which the reflection I saw in the mirror every day didn't match my memory of who I'd been. The hardest thing was watching Rupert's eyes skim over me, connecting for a moment, his brows furrowing before his eyes passed away again, clouded with grief. I moved to step towards him, but Felicity's hand clamped down on my arm, hard, locking me into my place beside her in the back of the crowd.

So I watched them through the crowd. Mostly teachers and students, people who knew me only passingly. Miles away, scattered across the globe, I knew the Kalderash clan was having its own private ceremonies. So my eyes were on the family that I had discovered at Sunnydale High. Willow was bawling, both Oz and Xander supporting her, their faces grim. Buffy’s arm was wrapped tightly around Rupert’s frame, holding him up. He looked limp, hollow as if he might simply collapse into a poof of ash like a dusted vampire. His face was now dry of tears, but it was evident that they had been there not long before. Buffy’s eyes were wet, in sympathy for him as much as sorrow for me, I realized without anger.

Felicity had made it clear in no uncertain terms that I was not to go to them, to interact with them in any way. I was to do my job, cleaning up after of the vampires and demons in this town, helping the victims only by pulling their souls from their bodies before death to ensure they didn't suffer unduly. Those were the rules and the consequences for breaking them could be dire. But then, I'd never been very good at following the rules. And as I watched my found family, I realized that no set of rules could prevent me from helping them where I could. 

And Rupert... We hadn't been done. Not even close. I wouldn't tell Felicity, but I hadn't given up. Someday, if I could, I'd find a way. 

All I knew for certain, as I watched his slumped form lean against Buffy, was that I would protect him from experiencing this again if I could. I wasn’t sure if I had the ability to hold death at bay from him or those around him. But I would try. And if I failed, well, I would at least be there to make the transition as gentle as possible.


End file.
